


A Prayer For The Sinners

by TheoGotIntoxicated



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Dishonored 1, Dishonored AU, M/M, Medium Chaos (Dishonored), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 07:21:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23467552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheoGotIntoxicated/pseuds/TheoGotIntoxicated
Summary: Amidst the scheming and plotting which is as much a part of Dunwall as the rats, one man of faith finds himself challenged at every turn and must choose how to use every gift at his disposal to secure his place at the top of the food chain. For while snakes may feast upon rats, there are plenty who would seek to make prey of the snake.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	1. A Snake In The Grass

Teague Martin had heard the people of Dunwall call him a snake before, and it was a view that he could understand, even revel in at times. After all, in recent times Dunwall had become a city known for its problem with rats. He looked around, watching with narrow eyes for the man whom he was to be plotting. He had to be careful, springing traitors from Coldridge Prison was an offence which could see him stripped of the title of Overseer. If his long term goals were to be achieved, that was the last thing that could be allowed to happen. 

A soft clearing of the throat called Martin back to reality, turning to see the slightly scruffy, nervous visage of Watch Officer Thorpe, a man whom Martin had dealt with before in the past, watching him from the shadows. 

“Good to see you, Thorpe.” Martin’s voice was measured, precise. Thorpe looked just about ready to bolt at the sound of a rat scurrying by, and Martin needed him. Thorpe’s role in his schemes was paramount. 

“Look, Martin,” Thorpe began, eyes shifting at the movement of every shadow. “I’ve helped you before in the past, slipped things into cells, helped out a prisoner you needed, but this? You’re asking me to be a part of freeing Corvo Attano.” He shook his man. “By the Void, they say he killed the Empress.”

“Corvo’s guilt in that matter is greatly exaggerated, Thorpe,” Martin assured him. “In fact, he’ll be crucial if we wish to see those who actually orchestrated the Empress’ death to face justice.” He turned back, where a small wooden crate, sealed tightly, waited. “I promise if this goes to plan, there should be nothing that leads back to you,” he lied. 

Thorpe looked unsure, Martin could see the thoughts moving through his mind, a hidden machine getting ready to churn out another excuse. Martin could understand his concern, even as he attempted the man to sign his life away to his cause. If there was someone worse he could thrust such a sentence onto, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Alas, Thorpe was the man in the appropriate position to spring Corvo from his cell, and thus was the one who would have to do the deed. 

“You’ll be taken care of by the Loyalists, Thorpe. I wouldn’t be asking you to do this if I didn’t have the best interests of the Empire at heart.” 

Thorpe looked torn, then sighed. “You know I want to serve the rightful Empress. Void knows I can’t stand Burrows being in power any more than the next man. But this is my life you’re asking to put on the line, my family are barely getting by at the moment.”

Martin indicated to the sealed crate behind him. “As I’ve said, Thorpe,” he said, an edge creeping into his voice. The excuses were wearing Martin’s patience thin, he didn’t want to have to be out here any longer than he had to. “You and your family will be taken care of. There’s enough cash and elixir here to keep you all going for the next month.” He sighed, perching against the wall and lighting a cigarette. “We’re all taking risks for this enterprise. I’m risking my place in the Abbey just being here with you now discussing this. But it’s for the greater good of the city, and for all our futures.”

“And none of this will be traceable back to me?” Thorpe asked after a long pause. 

“So long as you perform your part, you’ll be back at home by the end of the day as usual.” Martin lied. He had mixed feelings about manipulating people like this, but every now and again one had to defy the Second Stricture. As they stated, sometimes one had to make a few sparks to burn the city down. 

“Fine.” Thorpe didn’t look at Martin as he made his choice. He simply walked over to the crate, took it in his arms, and left. As he did, he turned his head slightly. “If something does go wrong. Take care of my family, would you?”

“Of course.” Martin watching him leave, taking another smokey breath in. Sometimes, the plotting and scheming it took to live in Dunwall weighed heavily on his mind, and he wondered what life might have been like had he remained in Morley. Simpler, he wagered, less prone to working with people like Havelock and Pendleton. Hiram Burrows was a deplorable man, who absolutely deserved to be torn from his seat of power and thrown to the bottom of a deep grave, but in Martin’s mind, Havelock and Pendleton weren’t as far above him as they liked to portray themselves as. 

He shook his head, ridding himself of these unnecessary thoughts. He was certainly no saint himself, he reminded himself, and he ought to be returning to the Abbey. If he was noticed to be gone this late in the evening, there might be questions. Questions he could easily outmanoeuvre, but that would be simpler to deal with if they were never asked at all. He turned to leave and found himself staring at a ragged looking couple, eyes red and sore from what he could only assume was the Plague. Martin cursed himself for holding a meeting in the Distillery Ward, where there would be a long walk back through Weeper heavy territory back to the Office of the High Overseer. It was of course for that exact reason that he’d chosen this location, it gave him a sense of security knowing he was unlikely to be followed back this way. He looked around for ways around the pair as they shambled towards him. He could, of course, go back the way that Thorpe had gone, but that would take him further out of his way back to the Abbey, and time was of the essence tonight. He began clambering up boxes and drain pipes, his days as a highwayman back in Morley having left their mark in the memory of his muscles, and while it wasn’t a typical pastime for Overseers to be travelling via rooftop around the city, Martin had always found that the skills made both his life and his occupation easier. 

It had taken him almost an hour to get to his meeting spot earlier that night, dodging down side alleys and keeping to the shadows, but travelling from building to building, feeling scarcely used muscles burning as he leapt across the bone-shattering drops between roofs, he was back at the Office of the High Overseer within half an hour. He walked with confidence back towards the main entrance. If anyone asked why he’d been out at such a late hour, he could simply tell them he’d been on a patrol or even a simple walk. His off-hours were his own and there was no real reason he should have to justify himself to anyone but…

“Out late this evening.” Martin had yet to meet someone with a more unearned tone of superiority than High Overseer Thaddeus Campbell, and to hear it at this time of evening was never good news. 

“High Overseer,” Martin began, but Campbell swiftly cut him off.

“What business would you have, being out this late at night? I don’t believe you have a patrol scheduled.”

Martin chuckled. “A man’s personal hours are his own, High Overseer. I don’t speak much for the others of the Abbey, but I find a walk of the surrounding area calms the mind at such times.”

“Why of course,” Campbell nodded, seeming to at the very least go along with Martin’s falsehoods. “Only, it is interesting that, when I was informed earlier by a fellow Overseer that you had left the Offices earlier tonight, I kept an eye out for your return, and could’ve sworn I’d seen a figure matching your description upon a rooftop nearby.”

“Curious.” Martin nodded. “As I was down at street level, I wouldn’t know who you might have seen, but I’ve been told I bear a striking resemblance to several people around the city.”

“Fascinating.” Campbell had the kind of blocky, brutish head that if Martin hit him violently across the face with a plank of wood, the only victory would be in breaking the wood. Such was the thought process he went through to avoid appearing too insubordinate. Campbell might be one of the biggest arseholes in all of the Empire, but Martin couldn’t afford to piss him off too thoroughly at present. “Well, after a long day and a suitably calming stroll, you ought to be heading back to your quarters now.” 

Martin nodded and turned to leave, confident that he could have told Campbell exactly where he’d been and the pig-headed bastard wouldn’t catch him out when his vision exploded into searing, painful darkness as he was clubbed across the back of the head. The blow brought him to one knee, the breath knocked out of him as Campbells boots appeared in his view. 

“You might think me foolish, Teague, but I assure you, it takes more than honeyed words to get past me. You don’t think I know about your nightly excursions, your secret meetings.” He felt Campbells thick fingers in his hair, pulling Martin’s eyes to meet his. “Normally, I’d have someone like you in a cell for the next month, but I can see you being a thorn in my side that I’d rather pluck out. I’ll have you branded as a heretic and thrown to the rats by the time tomorrow is done.” And with that, Campbell raised the butt of his gun, bringing the blunt force of it back to Martin’s head. “Enjoy your last night of freedom out in the square.” Campbell laughed, the last words Martin heard before slipping into unconsciousness.


	2. Bound Before The Eyes Of A God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bound in Holger Square, Teague Martin laughs before the one who holds Dunwall's fate in the palm of his hand.

The metal shackles felt wrong around Martin’s wrists. Not their presence themselves, this wasn’t the first time he’d worn manacles, but they didn’t usually feel this jagged, this rough against his skin. At least, not this soon after getting them on. It wasn’t just the manacles, the air felt colder than it should have, there was more of a breeze than expected, and the ground beneath him didn’t feel like cobblestone. He opened his eyes, and he didn’t see Holger Square before him. The space before him didn’t seem to end, lit by an unseen source of dim light in the distance. 

**“Well… This certainly has some promise.”**

The voice came from above him. Martin craned his neck around to try and see its source. “Who’s there?”

“ **I can already see… how things might play out… it should be interesting.”** The voice seemed to be moving around him, Martin could almost feel it, echoing around him and through his very mind. “ **A man of the Abbey brought to his knees, and face to face with the darkness he’s sworn to oppose.”** A shadow passed over him, something gargantuan. He craned his head up, to see the imposing form of something that was certainly not any kind of whale that Teague Martin had ever seen in his life. This thing was brobdingnagian in proportion and nightmarish in appearance. It swam through the Void above him, sinking out of sight. “ **You’re hanging onto a ledge by your fingertips, Teague.”** The leviathan swam up from the edge before him, the force of its movement, or maybe simply its very presence made Martin avert his gaze, and when he looked back, a man stood before him. He looked young, well dressed, with eyes darker than the very bottom of the ocean. He watched Martin for a moment, before gesturing beyond the edge of the slate. “ **Over the edge, you cling to your faith, but fall into exile.”** He turned back to Martin, offering a hand. “ **Or you give yourself into something beyond understanding.”**

Martin stared at the Outsider, before laughing. An unapologetically, unexpected sound which rang out across the Void, echoing off the slate around them. “You’re talking to me as if you’re offering me a real choice.” He looked past the Outsider, to the edge of the slate and beyond into the abyss. “If I fall, Campbell will brand me a heretic and leave me to get eaten by the rats and those whom they’ve infected.” He paused, turning his gaze back to the Outsider. “If I turn myself over to you, I become your puppet? I’d be living my life in fear, for if anyone discovered that I’d even spoken with you now, again, I’d be branded a heretic.” He laughed again. “Either way, my life as I knew it ends here.”

The Outsider raised an eyebrow. Maybe he was thinking about what Martin had said. Martin certainly didn’t know, he wasn’t even sure if he were here now. Maybe Campbell was torturing him and this was all some dream he was having. “ **The Snake of Dunwall,”** he said, perching on a rock and watching Martin like he was a dog on its hind legs. “ **I wonder what would happen, a cunning man with his life stripped away, who's been dragged in the mud. What would you do with my power?** ” 

“What if I don’t want it?”

“ **I’m sure there are people in your position who would spit on my offer, cast my hand aside and cling to their faith.”** The Outsider stood, approaching Martin till he had to crane his neck to see into those abyssal eyes. “ **But those men lack your vision.”**

“And what does my vision get you? What could something like you want from a man like me?”

“ **Why does a man cast a stone into a lake? To watch the water splash and see what kinds of ripples he makes. It’s true that I could offer my Mark to others, honourable men, lonely children in need of hope. But driven men are the ones who make the most interesting ripples.”** He knelt down, resting his hand on Martin’s. A feeling unlike any he’d felt before, like something crawled underneath his skin, trying to escape his flesh. It itched and burned it’s way into the back of his hand, glowing faintly before fading away. “ **You’ve wondered for decades whether or not you’re a good man, you’ve been the authority and the rebel in life, now... “** He stood, walking back to the edge. “ **What will you become?”**

* * *

His manacles were steel once more. Rain fell upon him, running down his face like tears in the glow of the streetlights. One man stood before him, not some eldritch enigma, simply a guard, arms folded and mumbling obscenities to himself. Martin almost laughed at how mundane it was, letting a soft chuckle escape his lips. The man turned, his scowl seemingly carved into his features. 

“Finally awake. At least now maybe you’ll shut up.” He sneered, like a predator whose prey is finally providing him with a challenge. “How’re your wrists? I hear the second day is when the skin starts to come all the way off. Or is it the itching that’s really getting under your skin?”

Martin laughed again, the mirth wracking his body. He watched the guard, whose name he vaguely remembered was Jasper though he wasn’t sure how he knew for sure, as his face flashed with a hint of concern. “Itching, no. I’ve handled worse.” He paused, looking around, feeling the rainfall on his face, the water pooling in the corner of a smile which housed grand designs. “Truth be told, it’s not so bad in here, except I do miss your wife.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was planning on uploading new chapters weekly but I got impatient XD 
> 
> Hope people like it, as always if you wanna chat I'm around on Tumblr at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/theogotintoxicated


	3. Whatever Possessed Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marked by a God he should oppose, held captive by his own Order, Teague Martin makes his move, but will he make it in time?

Martin didn’t appreciate being led through the High Overseer’s Offices by Jasper like a common criminal. Firstly, he didn’t consider himself a criminal, simply someone who was doing what needed to be done for the Empire. Also, in regards to what he did, he was far from common, especially now.

“Hope you enjoy living out on the streets, Martin.” Jasper hissed. 

“I imagine I’ll be fine,”

“How’d you figure that?”

Martin turned his head to smirk back at the guard. “I told you, I’ll be with your wife.” As expected, Jasper responded to his witty retort with a harsh shove into the small room where he would be branded. Campbell was already there, standing tall like a proud bird with his chest puffed out. As Jasper strapped him down, pulling the leather cuffs almost too tight around Martin’s gloved fists, Martin noticed that the observation window was empty. 

“We don’t need your little conspiracy becoming public knowledge,” Campbell told him as he sent Jasper away. “Once we’re done here, I’ll be meeting with Geoff Curnow, Captain of the City Watch to discuss some matters, and once the Lord Regent and I have him replaced, we can get to work quashing this little uprising of yours,” he said, an unbearable grin spreading across his face. He grasped the Heretic’s Brand, the rough iron rod with the Heretic’s sigil glowing brightly from the heat and the chemicals the Overseers used on it to scar its victims. 

“Once I’m through with you, I won’t have any trouble bringing it down on anyone else who bothers me, who threatens the institution of my Abbey.” He grinned, trailing the brand around like a daydreaming child. “Burrows is a damned fool, but he’s just the person to craft this city into something I can make good use of. And when he’s done his part, maybe I’ll have him branded too.” 

“You expect to get away with all this?” Martin asked, the industry of his thought process already producing results from the ludicrous material Campbell was giving him. “You don’t think you’re being a bit optimistic… or power-mad.”

Campbell sneered at him. “You were always such a smartass, Teague. I’ll enjoy searing the Heretic’s Brand into that smug face of yours.” He raised the Brand, Martin feeling the heat radiating from the glowing sigil. “Any last words while you’re still an Overseer?”

“ _ Why are you trying to brand me, Campbell? You were always going to turn that brand on yourself. _ ” Martin felt a strange power fill the words as he said them, and saw a curious purple glow reflected in Campbell’s eyes, which glazed over as he listened. He drew the brand back, looking at it as if it was the most treasured thing he’d ever laid his eyes on. Campbell smiled as he pressed the searing hot brand into his face, and Martin grimaced as he heard the flesh sizzling underneath the metal, and felt the uncomfortable aroma of cooked meat hit him as he worked his way out of the bindings. Standing, he laid Campbell down in the chair and glanced down at his hand. A faint trail of ethereal smoke trailed from the back of his hand, accompanied by the faintest of purple glows. It was just as he’d expected, and Martin resolved to find a way to better hide the Mark from others, else he would have to keep his newfound powers even more reserved. 

He looked at Campbell, who had dropped the Brand and was now standing there smiling, blissfully unaware of his life crumbling around him as his face scarred. Martin unbuttoned the man's coat, feeling around until he felt the small, solid shape of something he’d wanted to get his hands on for a long while. Campbell’s black book was something of an urban legend around the Abbey, and to hold it in his hands and read through its secrets was something he’d long desired. He knew for a fact that it was only through this that he’d managed to ascend through the ranks to High Overseer, as it certainly hadn’t been through his devotion to the Strictures. He sat Campbell down in the chair, strapping him in. He’d have to sow some seeds in order to get Campbell disposed of, in addition to the ones he’d already had Jasper dealing with over the past couple nights while he’d been in Holger Square. 

Jasper was still waiting outside and seemed confused to see an unbranded Martin leaving the room. 

“ _ Check on Campbell soon would you? He’s been Branded as planned but I fear it’s left him a bit confused, he’s been making some outrageous claims. Leave him for a short while then have him stripped of his belongings and sent away from the Abbey. _ ”

Jasper nodded, eyes glazed over like Campbells were. “Right oh, Sir.” He said, waiting outside the door like a good guard dog. Martin continued down the corridor, pleased with how the whole thing had played out. He had to admit, these new gifts from the Outsider were a tool he would be a fool to ignore, even if they flew in the face of everything the Abbey stood for. Still, if they served the purpose of his end goals, it was easy to ignore his new heretical skillset. 

He found himself in the meeting room Campbell had been meaning to visit following the branding process, a slightly confused Geoff Curnow waiting and examining a bottle of Tyvian Red wine. 

“I wouldn’t drink that if I were you,” Martin warned, moving the glasses out of harm's way. “Campbell’s a poor judge of drink, and I wouldn’t want to offend you in such a way.”

“Martin, good to see you again.” The men shook hands, and Martin had to agree, it had been some time since Martin had seen Curnow, the passage of time had been kind to him so far. “Though I must admit, I was expecting the High Overseer.” 

“I’m afraid the High Overseer will be taking a leave of absence. I hear he has a few things to take care of so he’ll be leaving the Abbey immediately.”

“That is surprising.” Curnow shook his head, the very corners of his mouth perking upward. “Not entirely unwarranted though, Campbell was hardly the most deserving person of such a position.”

“Indeed, I think there should be some restructuring around here at the Abbey,” Martin replied, turning to Curnow. “I trust we can rely on the support of the City Watch in these troubling times?” 

“Of course, I’m here if you need me, old friend.”

Martin smiled. “Then I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me for the time being, there’s much work to be done here at the Abbey, the election of a new High Overseer for one.” Martin turned away, already working out the details in his head. “And I have some ideas on who should fill those boots.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fun one to write! Sort of an end to the Campbell issue (For now...) We'll be seeing Martin move onto bigger and better things soon! Next chapter should be out next week, though I've been a little busy at the minute so there might be some delays!
> 
> As always if you wanna chat about it or anything else, find me on Tumblr at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/theogotintoxicated

**Author's Note:**

> I always love taking more minor characters and seeing how they'd fare in the protagonist's spotlight. And Teague always seemed like a character who they could've had a lot of fun with in another life.
> 
> Hope people enjoy this, more is definitely to come! If you wanna chat about it or anything else, find me on Tumblr at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/theogotintoxicated


End file.
